


They don't even kiss at the end

by Inebri



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: If you get even the tiniest giggle out of this I'll be happy, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Rated A for Awkward Laughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 10:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inebri/pseuds/Inebri
Summary: Tony proposes to Steve.Steve doesn't seem very enthused about it.





	They don't even kiss at the end

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry to happily married couples everywhere. I'm sure _your_ proposals were magical. Please give your wives/husbands my regards.

 

 

 

Taking a deep breath, Tony slams open the doors to the communal living room. As expected on a cozy Friday evening, the whole gang is here, doing something or other. Peter looks up at him from his massive spread of schoolbooks with his usual adoring grin. No-one else gave his dramatic entrance due attention.

 

“I come seeking Steve Rogers!” Tony exclaims loudly over the murmur of conversation, zeroing in on the object of his quest. This time, at least, Bucky marks a spot on a page of the open book in his lap with a metal finger, brows furrowed as he stares at Tony, then Steve, who is sitting on the the couch talking quietly to Natasha.

 

Steve doesn’t even bat an eyelash in Tony’s direction.

 

Undeterred, Tony strides towards the couch with purpose. He looms over Steve for a few seconds, waiting for him to finish his current line of dialogue. As soon as there is a break in the conversation he kneels down and places both hands on Steve’s left kneecap, resting his chin on them.

 

“Steven… Steve,” pleads Tony tenderly, almost in reverence. He stares up to his beloved’s face, glowing gold in the incandescence of the lit fireplace, and feels his heart in his throat. “Look at me, darling.”

 

Slowly, familiar cerulean eyes shift his way, questioning. Tony loses himself in them, just for a few precious moments, giving them their due worship, before he presses on. “My dear, as you know, I promised you long ago that our love would be everlasting, a sacred gift for the romantics of our time and beyond. Yet you must forgive me my old heart; it yearns for more, for something tangible beyond declarations of affection, whispered into naked, vulnerable skins.”

 

Behind him, Tony distinctly hears Bucky huffing loudly in irritation before going back to his reading.

 

“My sun, my moon, my stars,” Tony continues, pulling out a box of richest velvet from his pocket. “I have toiled for endless days and prepared for you an adornment, envious as I am that it might stay with you always, closer to you than my own heart can ever hope to be. In this vaulted room, with our friends as our witnesses, I entreat you with this humble offering the invitation to intertwine our fates, that from this day forth we may walk the path of our lives together and never apart, bound by more than words, but our hearts, our souls, our mortal estates.”

 

Tony pries open the box, revealing the ring of polished vibranium. His heart, still lodged in his throat, pulses erratically.

 

“Steven Grant Rogers, will you do me the honor of being my lawfully wedded husband, my partner for life, in sickness and in health?”

 

The room falls quiet.

 

Seconds tick by. A bead of sweat trails down Tony’s back, under his clothes.

 

Steve stares down at the ring, contemplative, yet makes no move towards it.

 

Tony feels the blood drain from his face. Had he pushed for too much? Could this be the end?

 

“Stevie, don’t be mean,” Bucky rumbles warningly from his position on the armchair, flipping a page in his book.

 

Steve rolls his eyes and gives Tony his left hand.

 

“Sure, why not.”

 

“Yessssss,” hisses Tony in triumph, pumping his fist into the air Freddie Mercury-style before plucking the ring from its cushion and slipping it onto the ring finger of Steve’s offered hand. Then he hops up from the floor and drops himself into his new husband’s lap, leaning heavily into Steve’s considerably-muscled chest. “We’re gonna be _legendary_ , babe, just you see.”

 

Bucky snorts.

 

Steve only snakes an arm around Tony’s waist, gripping him tightly for a second before going straight back into arguing about shower curtains with Natasha.

 

Everyone else returns to their previous order of business, except for Peter who gapes like a goldfish. In a slightly shrill voice, he whispers, “B-But I thought Mr Stark is married to—” Sam, who’s helping the boy with his homework, slaps down a firm hand on Peter’s shoulder and shakes his head. Peter shuts up.

 

Nobody else makes another comment.

 

After a few minutes basking in his bliss, Tony suddenly sits up, frowning down at Steve in confusion. “Wait. Why weren’t you surprised at my super-romantic proposal?”

 

Mildly annoyed that his conversation was once again interrupted, Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Was I supposed to be?”

 

“Well, yeah!” Tony replies, indignant. Then he switches tracks, going teary-eyed, heart audibly breaking in his ribcage. He’s probably a turn of the tap away from full-blown waterworks. “Did it mean nothing to you? Is our great romance dead, Steve?”

 

Instead of replying, Steve only leans forward, looking past Tony in his lap to Bucky on the armchair. His eyebrows hike up higher on his forehead. Bucky immediately understands that look, despite it being a new one.

 

It says, _“He’s **your** husband first, so **you** do something about this.”_

Bucky sighs, with great suffering. He reluctantly puts down his book.

 

Reaching out with his metal hand, Bucky – _gently_ – cuffs Tony in the back of the head. “You’ve been proposing to him every day for ‘practice’ for _two whole weeks_ now, doll, and he’s said yes every time. Give the guy a break.”

 

Tony huffs and buries his face in Steve’s neck, hunkering down for a good three-hour sulk, or at least until one of his husbands coaxes him to let them back in his favor.

 

“At least this time I get to actually _keep_ the ring,” Steve says lazily, then waggles the finger that carries his newest acquisition at Bucky. “Hey Buck,” he simpers. “Have I shown you my new ring yet?”

 

Bucky, his nose already back in his book, flicks a middle finger back at him, and then _very obviously_ puts his metal hand in view of the rest of the party: the first articulated joint of his metal ring finger is gleaming red, banded with a streak of gold in the exact middle. “Go stuff yourself, Rogers.”

 

“That’s _Mr Stark_ to you, Mr Stark.”

 

Behind them, Peter groans.

 

 

 

 


End file.
